


The Nightmares Are Back

by Taybay14



Series: Light in the Dark Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel goes to therapy, Castiel is having nightmares, Castiel needs to figure out how to love himself, M/M, Pretty much any tag from Light in the Dark is applicable here, References to Child Abuse, References to Rape/Non-Con, References to underage sex/rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: “The nightmares are back,” Castiel finally says after sitting silent in the room for 21 minutes. He doesn’t raise his eyes. Doesn’t look at the man in front of him. He just continues to sit forward, elbows on his knees, staring at his favorite swirl in the paisley rug between them.“Did Dean call again?”Castiel nods.----One of Castiel's therapy sessions during his time away from Dean.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Light in the Dark Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616848
Comments: 17
Kudos: 115





	The Nightmares Are Back

**Author's Note:**

> ** This counseling session happens right after the one year anniversary of Castiel leaving Dean in Lawrence - right after the phone call on that day that he had with Dean. 
> 
> This was bonus content on my Patreon during the break between LITD & CITS, but I'm sharing it now because Dean and Cas are about to go to Castiel's counselor in CITS and I thought this would help give some background on Castiel's time in therapy so far! Enjoy (:

“The nightmares are back,” Castiel finally says after sitting silent in the room for 21 minutes. He doesn’t raise his eyes. Doesn’t look at the man in front of him. He just continues to sit forward, elbows on his knees, staring at his favorite swirl in the paisley rug between them. 

“Did Dean call again?”

Castiel nods. 

“Was it a good call, or was he upset?”

Castiel swallows. Squeezes his eyes shut. Tries not to think of the words that were spat at him. “It was a year ago this past Thursday. One full year.”

“Since when, Castiel?”

“Since I brought him home. Since I-” Castiel can’t finish that. 

Since he _what_? Since he blew his entire life up? Since he made a thousand enemies? Since he lost his identity? Since he lost the love of his life? Since he’s been able to smile? Since he’s felt anything but empty?

“Did Dean call you Thursday?”

Castiel nods. 

“Was it a good call, or was he upset?” Dr. Edlund asks again. 

“He was upset.”

The room fills with a loaded silence that Castiel hates. Why can’t this doctor just tell him how to fucking fix this? Why can’t he give Castiel a fucking answer for once? All he does is ask questions, going silent when he thinks Castiel should speak. What the fuck does he want Castiel to say? 

“The nightmares are back,” Castiel repeats, this time lifting his eyes to stare at the man in front of him. “I want them to stop.”

“Yes. I can imagine you do.”

Castiel scoffs. “That’s entirely unhelpful.” 

“What version of the nightmares are you having?” Dr. Edlund asks, crossing one leg over the other. He looks like he’s getting ready to hear a story. Or maybe a lecture. An academic lecture, since he’s so old and scholarly looking. Castiel actually went to an academic lecture last month. Something the local college had. It was about sociopaths. 

It left him with too many questions and not enough answers.

“Castiel?” the doctor prompts. 

“I’m thirteen… fourteen, maybe.”

It’s all he has to say. The doctor knows Castiel’s nightmares well. It took a while to pry all the details from him, since Castiel isn’t particularly talkative – especially when they first started – but he knows now. He knows that when Castiel is young – eight or nine – that the nightmare is watching his father use Dean as a personal slave. He knows that when Castiel is older – eighteen or nineteen – it’s him using Dean to assert his authority to the others, since he just inherited the company. Him using Dean for… _demonstrations_. 

And he knows when Castiel is thirteen or fourteen, that the nightmare is Castiel being trained, Dean as the practice dummy. 

Castiel closes his eyes, bile rising in his throat. He can still hear it. His father’s low, dominating voice. “No, son. Too gentle. Like this.” He can still hear Dean’s screams and pleas, eyes wide as his father takes over, knowing damn well that Castiel is the lesser of the two evils. Gabriel’s father standing off to the side, chuckling. Gabriel standing next to Castiel, breathing heavy. The slick noise of Dean getting fucked through blood and cum. Dean’s broken, breathy little cries. Dean’s final, “Please,” as he looks at Castiel, begging him with his beautiful green eyes to please help him. To please make it stop. 

Dean falling silent, those same eyes going empty. 

“Now you try,” his father would say. “Make me proud, son.”

And Castiel would step up behind Dean. He would grip his hips, reveling in how tiny his hands are on the fully-grown man’s body. His dick was small. His father promised it would grow. Puberty had just begun. Castiel felt relief that he was small in this moment, because the slave already hurt so much, and at least this would be better than his father or Gabe’s father. At least this would be a bit of a break. 

Castiel remembers feeling guilty immediately. His father taught him better than that. The slave is _supposed_ to hurt. Giving them breaks – giving them a reprieve – just gives them hope. “In this compound, boy, hope is dangerous. Hope is all they have left. You have to strip them of it completely.”

And Castiel nods. And he asks for a dildo, so he can double penetrate the slave, so he can hear it scream. And his father grins like the devil. Watches Castiel rape and destroy the man he loves – and Castiel knows this, in the dream. Deep down. There’s this nagging that he knows the slave on the bench. That he loves the slave on the bench. 

“That’s it, son. Just like that,” his father would praise, and Castiel would smile, and he’d feel lighter than air. 

And then Castiel looks at Dean’s empty green eyes, one lone tear slipping down his cheek as he stares off at nothing, and Castiel gasps awake. 

Castiel opens his eyes and looks at Dr. Edlund. He feels a tear trailing down his own cheek, matching Dean’s. Castiel doesn’t wipe it away. No one had wiped Dean’s. 

“Your father isn’t alive anymore, Castiel,” Dr. Edlund says. 

It’s such a familiar phrase. Something they work on quite often. Something Castiel sometimes recites in front of the mirror as he stares at himself. He has his father’s curly hair. His bright blue eyes. His tilted smile. 

Castiel used to stay up at nights hoping he’d one day be just like his father. 

Now, Castiel stays up at night terrified that he’s too much like him. That he’s keeping his father alive by keeping himself alive. That he has monster in his veins. As inescapable as the need to breathe.

“Your father isn’t alive anymore, Castiel,” the doctor repeats. 

“I know.”

“Say it.”

“My father isn’t alive anymore.” 

After a brief pause, Dr. Edlund says quietly, “You know what we need to talk about today, Castiel. No point avoiding it.” 

Castiel picks an imaginary fuzzy off his sweater. He’s been wearing them more often. They’re so soft and welcoming compared to his harsh suits. He’s not sure if he likes them yet, but he’s noticed people smile at him more. They don’t look so afraid of him. No one stumbles with their words when they try to speak to him. 

No one calls him ‘sir.’ 

It’s a nice change – disconcerting, but nice. 

With a reminder that he’s doing this for Dean, Castiel forces himself to talk, recounting the phone call. “He was so fucking sad, but so angry too. Furious. At me. At himself. At life. He – he sounded like he wanted to give up.” 

Per usual, Dr. Edlund just nods in silence. His way of telling Castiel to continue. 

“He said I ruined him. He – he, uh… he can’t have sex with other men. He’s been trying, but he can’t. He said the issue is that none of them are me… none of them are good enough.” Castiel huffs a laugh. “And that pissed him off, because – well – obviously, right? Who would want to be with someone like me when there are men out there who would treat him good. Who had never hurt him before. Never tied him down and fucking raped him. Fucking shared him. Fucking beat him. Was going to fucking sell him. Fucking-”

“Enough, Castiel,” Dr. Edlund says in his strong, commanding voice, cutting Castiel off. Castiel leans forward again, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands. “Ripping yourself apart does nothing to help you or Dean. We’ve discussed that.”

“I know.”

A pause. Then, “How did it make you feel, to hear he’s been trying to sleep with other men?”

Castiel’s fingers curl into white fists of fury as he lifts his head to lock eyes with his therapist. “Murderous.”

“Toward the men, I presume.” Castiel jerks a nod, locking his jaw so he doesn’t begin telling the doctor all of the things he’d like to do to those men. Those men that have laid their hands on Dean. “Let’s dissect that a bit, Castiel. This is very big for you. Can you tell me why?”

“Because it means Dean is trying to move on? It means I don’t have a fucking shot in hell of getting him back?”

“No.” Dr. Edlund smiles, and he’s fucking lucky Castiel likes him, because Castiel would punch him in the face otherwise. “You’re still here, Castiel.”

“What?”

“Here, in town. You didn’t fly to Lawrence and hunt these men down. You didn’t kill them. Even though you and I both know you could. You’re still well connected. It’d be a breeze, and it’d make you feel better, and you’d know they’d never lay hands on Dean again.” The doctor’s smile grows. “But you’re still here.”

Castiel shrugs. “It’s not my place. It’s – I don’t own him. He’s not mine. If that’s what he wants, if someone else is what he wants, then… I don’t know. I’ll figure out a way to survive that. To let him go.”

When the doctor says nothing, Castiel returns to staring at the paisley rug. It takes a few minutes. Then, a smile is curling his own lips. “ _Oh, fuck_.”

“Yes, Castiel.” Castiel looks up at him in amazement. The doctor is no longer smiling. He’s very serious. “You are not your father, and you are not the man your father forced you to be. Those two men, they would be disgusted with what you just said, but you? You’d be disgusted with yourself if you said anything else.”

“I’m not like him,” Castiel whispers, testing the words on his tongue. They still feel wrong. Heavy. Textured. But not as much so as the other times he had tried them. In fact, they feel like they could actually fit there, if he was willing to make just a bit more room. “I’m not like my father.”

Dr. Edlund nods. 

“I’m not like my father.” Castiel shakes his head in amazement, tears burning his eyes. Then an overwhelming fear seizes in his chest. “What – what if it’s too late? What if that other man in me – what if the monster went too far? Did too much? What if Dean doesn’t come back?”

“You already said what would happen, then. You would find a way to let him go. You would be happy for him, even if it meant destroying yourself.” 

Castiel nods, something heavy and unfamiliar clogging his throat. He coughs, trying to clear it, but it’s still there, choking him as he whispers, “He said he still loves me.”

“That’s great, Castiel.” The doctor closes his notebook, indicating that their time is up. He stands. Walks Castiel to the door. Pauses with his hand on the silver knob. His kind eyes meet Castiel’s. “Now, you just have to figure out how to love you too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever <3


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